The Shirt and the Stick
by Niv-mizzit
Summary: Vernon and Petunia Dursley die in a car crash on Harry's second birthday. With Dudley alive, the only way to keep the blood wards active is to live with Dudley in a place the both of them can call home. A phone call later and Albus has the arrangement's made, but how will Harry grow and develop in an environment where he is pushed to his limits and beyond? HPxCHERUB
1. Prologue

**Author's note**

**Hello, I'm niv-mizzet, and this is my first published chapter of my first published fic. As such, the only beta used has been the Microsoft Word spellcheck, so I apologise for any poor spelling and grammer. I hope you enjoy, and apologise in advance for the length of time there will be before the next chapter is posted, as I intend to write until about 5 before I post anymore. If I can fill this out enough, and find the motivation to finish it, it will end up a multi-story series, therefore if I fall short and someone wants to pick it up, I will not begrudge them the nightmare of a task therein, especially trying to make sense of my limited, highly disorganized notes. Anyway, enjoy, and I look forward to hearing your opinions (that means review).**

**Niv-Mizzet**

**Disclaimer**

**I do not own any character or other part of either J. 's Harry Potter series, or Robert Muchamore's CHERUB series. As such blah blah… immunity from prosecution… plot is however mine… please ask permission if you wish to borrow from this fic, any ideas or concepts that I create. Any uncredited reference to ideas that have been used before is either coincidental or subconscious. Please inform me if one occurs, and I shall deem which category it fits into, and any subconscious will be asked nicely if I can keep them.**

**Prolouge**

Albus Dumbledore turned to the rickety wooden table that had been sitting in the middle of room since last Halloween, the mild suspicion on his face visible only to the most experienced of observers. Worryingly, one of the assortment of strange instruments was giving off a note slightly flatter than it should have been. A slight flick of his wrist, and his wand was in his hand, a detection charm on his lips. "_Sometimes it pays to be old,"_ Albus thought ruefully. "_That was a demonstration of speed and style that only the truly experienced could perform_." However, before Albus could actually do anything of note, the machine paused for a short moment, and then reset itself, it's pitch returning to its correct levels. Albus breathed a sigh of relief, and sat back down. "_Those devices are more trouble then they are worth"_ Albus thought, then instantly rebuked himself. This was for Harry Potter; the boy magic itself had sent to rectify his biggest mistake. No amount of trouble was worth more than that. But that train of thought brought him on to the second biggest mistake he had ever made; leaving Harry at the Dursley's.

Today was Harry Potter's second birthday, and the monitoring instruments were playing havoc with Dumbledore's nerves. Lily's final spell before her death allowed Albus to place a set of wards more powerful than those of even Hogwarts on a given location and the people in it, powered by mutual love and respect. Albus had foolishly placed them on the place he received these the most, with family. Vernon and Petunia, however, were giving him limited amounts of these things, amounts that would surely reduce as Harry became older and moved closer to the point in his life in which his magic would begin to show itself. How could he have forgotten Petunia's reaction to the letter he sent her, a young girl of eleven, informing her that, unfortunately, whilst she had a large enough magical core to perform the level of magic necessary at Hogwarts, her magical channels would never develop enough for her to be able to force it through a wand with the power needed for a spell to take place. As it was, the grudge she had on her sister was beginning to be projected onto Harry, slowly weakening the wards further, and trying to rush Dumbledore back into the corner, with little chance of escape. A decision would soon be made for him.

Petunia Dursley wasn't sure whether or not it was her nephew's birthday. After all, it wasn't as if she actually cared. The boy wasn't hers, thank god. She had no more to do than give him food and a roof, and she was fine. So why did she feel so much guilt over her and Vernon's future plans? Surely it would help the boy if they succeeded in beating the freakiness out of him? So why did it feel like the wrong path? And would that awful sister of Vernon's ever shut up?

Harry and the Dursleys had just picked Marge up from the sea port upon her return from holiday, and were planning on having her stay for a couple of days. However, she was in the middle of a ferocious argument with Petunia about keeping the boy in the first place, with Vernon acting as a mediator and, as such, they barely saw the lorry that broadsided them.

Vernon and Marge died instantly, the impact being enough to kill them both as they sat, faces forever fastened in a look of absolute terror. Petunia, however, was different. The only thought that crossed her mind was protecting the two children that were in the car with her. The force of will she demonstrated was enough to guide the entirety of the magical core that she, as well as all muggles, possessed through the now open magical pathways, the difference between the magical and non-magical populations, and all into the blood wards. The sacrifice made was so similar to that of her sister that the blood wards' protection extended to lorries, and the two young children in the back both survived.

Albus Dumbledore returned to his office and sat down. The very thought of Harry Potter was driving him to distraction, so the large cracking sound that came from the device linked specifically to Vernon Dursley was the last thing he wanted to hear. He looked up in horror as the small drum that was linked to Petunia swelled to twice its original size before it too split, and held his breath as the instruments that indicated the health of both Harry and Dudley began to dull.

"Fawkes!"

Dumbledore threw on his travel cloak and summoned his deluminator, eyes burning with power. It seemed there was not long before the wizarding world lost it's only hope, and he was ready to do what it took to prevent that, even if it meant his own life. He tuned back to his desk, only to find that his phoenix had not yet left his perch.

_Wait_

At this command, Dumbledore instantly relaxed. The phoenix rarely spoke, but when he did, he was to be obeyed without question. Only once had he disobeyed Fawkes, and he had lost his sister because of it. He was sure the phoenix knew who had cast the curse that had killed her, but dared not ask. It would grant him no peace, no

matter the answer. Immediately, more changes began to take place on the table. The two dulled instruments were quickly getting brighter, and the clouds the small train was puffing were a blood red colour, indicating the wards were more powerful than ever before.

_Now we go_

Next thing Albus knew, he was standing on the side of the road, watching the wreck that had once been the Dursley's car as it began to catch fire. Seconds later, Fawkes dropped the two children in his arms, as the old man looked on in shock, tears in his eyes. He knew what had happened, and now the two cousins' would grow up without parents. He turned on the spot and apparated to the hospital wing. Let the boys sleep for the night. He had to decide their futures.

Hours later, Albus Dumbledore was still at a loss. For the blood wards to be maintained, the boys would have to live together effectively ruling out most magical homes. The boys had no relatives left among the living, and the muggle care system would split them up even quicker than the wizarding world. If only there was a magical family that would not mind the loss of prestige that a muggle would bring, with even the Weasleys avoiding their squib relative. He could probably have persuaded them to do so anyway, but the extra money would bankrupt them quicker than you can say school supplies. Again that could be solved by unsealing the Potter will, but that would be a whole new kettle of fish. There was the Lovegood's, but the Harry would probably end up too lost in a fantasy world to do anything against Voldemort and family tradition dictated that the Lovegoods crafted their own wands. How could he pass on a wand with Fawkes feather, specifically for priori incantatum, when it had taken a lot of blood from both Harry and Voldemort to ensure that Harry received it. It was not his fault that the boy was not suited for that wand, but if everything was to turn out for the greater good, and yet the boy were to survive, it was about the only chance he had, as Dumbledore was sure that training him would result in a second Voldemort, more powerful than the first could ever be. As Albus Dumbledore continued to ponder his plan in its entirety, a light chuckle began from the corner of the room. "What?" Dumbledore fumed, finding Fawkes' laughter infuriating.

_You have been given a number specifically for this kind of __situation you old fool. Use it_

Albus was now thoroughly confused. Another hour or two passed as he went through every memory stored in his pensive, before he found the one he was looking for. A conversation with Old professor Dippet's painting on his second day as headmaster.

Albus searched his desk for the number he had been given the second day of his promotion to headmaster of this absurd school. He found it scratched into the leg of his chair, and immediately made the call. The number belonged to one Doctor Terence McAfferty. A man better known, by those who knew him, as Mac, or by his job title: Director of operations at CHERUB HQ. Dumbledore explained the situation to this Mac at great detail, to which the reply he received was most satisfactory. It was a simple, three-word sentence.

"We'll take them."

Dumbledore hung up his phone with a sense of relief. He was glad that he had given Arthur free reign to tinker with muggle objects, as the items he could steal from the Weasley patriarch were fascinating. The phone, still fully operational yet powered by an eternal battery pack, was one of the more interesting, and he had gone to great pains to remove all memory of it from Arthur, preventing the technology from reaching the hands of those with less noble ambitions.

_Time to stop admiring that mobile of yours Albus. You have plans to re-write_

At those words, Albus immediately withdrew a parchment and quill. Factoring in the training and conditioning Harry would receive, any fears of a new Voldemort were suddenly boundless. At this thought, a smile lit up the old man's face. "_Time to see about getting the old teaching boots back on," _he thought._ "Not until after Voldemort's return though. We can't have him getting arrogant can we Fawkes?"_

The phoenix trilled in agreement, then left on a flight about the grounds, he too considering the path that now lay in front of the young student.

_Good luck young Harry. You will need it._


	2. Planning Stages

**Seems like I've managed to get another chapter up for this relatively pointless group of words I call a story. If there are no major changes in my life, weekly should be about the level of update speed we are looking at. Hopefully in the time I am writing this, I can get my imagination really flowing and start expanding chapter size. Don't bet on it though.**

**Niv-Mizzit**

CHERUB

It didn't take long for the obliviators to be thankful that CHERUB wasn't encompassed by the International Statute of Secrecy. Barely 5 years after it's formation they, unknowingly of course, recruited their very first magical agent. The fact that he was only seven at the time meant that the accidental magic started within weeks of his arrival. It was very quickly a sought after trait in potential recruits. After all, whilst it's rare that someone suspects that the nice 13 year old who moved in next door was the one who stole the million pounds worth of cocaine hidden in their cellar, turned it over to the police, and had their child moved to live with his mother (a much better influence), it's even rarer when that child has it entrenched in his memory that he spent the afternoon with said 13 year old and his whole family. The problem was that they did not have the facilities to deal with the training.

CHERUB is a top secret part of the British Intelligence service. It is first and foremost an orphanage for children between the ages of 2 and 17. It's secondary purpose however, is the point behind the whole operation. From the moment they step in the building for the first time, to the moment they leave it for the last, CHERUBs are trained to be spies. That training encompasses everything from basic school subjects, such as maths and sciences, to languages of both modern and ancient origin, to martial arts of multiple disciplines, to survival skills. Most of this training comes after ages 11-12, when the student has completed 100 days of basic training and is formalised as an agent, but the basis of these skills (the fitness, the logic, the imagination, the critical thinking and the observational abilities) are started at a very young age, meaning students like Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley were at a great advantage. A great enough advantage, that at age 5, the two were consistently noted as huge prospects by the campus chief talent scout, a man named Xenophilius Lovegood. A man who was currently in a meeting with Mac, explaining exactly what he thought should be done to bring the best out of these two young prodigies.

"First and foremost Mac, we need to start Harry on Latin. It will be vital for his formal training at that school,and should give him a leg up without a need for special magical training. Training which we just can't afford."

"Okay, Xen, I understand your reasoning behind Harry's development as an agent, and I plan to go along with it, but how long do we wait before we tell him about his magic?" Mac let out a small sigh before continuing, "His accidents should begin any time over the next two years, and why do we continue to concentrate on teaching him subjects like history, when we know that he will never really need it? Why not tell him now and begin his introduction into the magical world as early as possible? Especially the mission we were assigned for him when he comes of age?"

Xenophilius chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Terence McAfferty asked, a dangerous tone entering his voice.

"Those were the exact same questions that I asked Selena when she helped me plan how to raise him. That women isn't an unspeakable for nothing after all."

"I'm sorry, Unspeakable?"

"Ah sorry, magical researchers, only top secret. Think Manhattan project for slightly more mundane purposes."

Mac gulped nervously. "What do you mean by 'mundane' exactly?"

"Mainly making new spells, researching unknown powers, that type of thing. Pretty good money, and she informs me that it's a lot of fun so I can't really argue with it. Even though there is constantly a high level of risk, which may result in," Xenophilius paused, as if for effect. "her untimely death."

Mac's eyes narrowed. He knew straight away that the man in front of him was trying to tell him something. "Go on."

"An untimely accident may happen at any time, say the day of Harry's first burst of accidental magic, which would leave my Luna without a mother. An already traumatic event which I suppose could be made even worse if Luna witnesses it first hand."

"You better be speaking hypothetically Lovegood or I swear to god I will have a bullet through your brain quicker than you can whip out that stick of your's!"

Xenophilius grinned. "If say, I then had a nervous breakdown,it would be a perfect excuse to bring Luna into the CHERUB set up, would it not?"

Mac sat for a moment, letting the pieces come together in his head. Then the same smile, that was plastered across the face of the man opposite him, slowly appeared across his own features.

"Just how good is your daughter Xeno?"

"Better than anyone in her age group on campus. Except perhaps Harry of course."

"Will she know her mother is alive?"

"Naturally"

"Will she tell Harry?"

"Of course."

"How long have you been planning this?"

"Came up with it on the spot?"

"Seriously Xeno."

"5 days after Harry arrived at CHERUB."

"Ok, let me get this straight. Shortly after Harry's first major incident of accidental magic, your wife is going to fake her death, probably with your daughter in close proximity. You and Luna will then pretend to lose mental stability, giving a perfect excuse to have her brought into CHERUB, and more importantly, into contact with Harry. She will then tell him all about the magical world and help get him to a level where he can be classified as one of the better students in his class, at which point we give him his first and only mission and send him off to Hogwarts, correct?"

"Yes."

"The only problem I can see is that Luna doesn't enter Hogwarts until Harry's second year. He needs someone to report to, who can give him advice and help him build a good network of friends and contacts, whilst maintaining sight on the mission objective. It's hard whilst on deep cover after all."

"As a matter of fact, Nymphadora Tonks finishes Hogwarts the same year Harry starts."

"The shapeshifter? I got a good report on her from Large after she finished basic."

"Metamorphagus, yes."

"I guess that is all set then. Keep up the good work Xeno."

"Thanks Mac."

"Want me to speak at your wife's funeral?"

"We'll have to talk about it closer to the time."

Whilst the adults were discussing him, Harry Potter was desperately trying to stitch together his t-shirt. Of course, the staff were very wise to this tactic from the younger years, and all the red thread in campus was secured in a single room where an inventory was kept. Whenever someone asked about this and why it was done specifically to prevent the red shirts from repairing their shirts, they received the same answer. The first thing a succesful CHERUB has, is the strength of character to let someone know the minute something bad happens. This trait is more common among those who have been trained in it first, so we prevent them from taking care of themselves to help drive them to the staff. Secondly, a successful CHERUB looks after their equipment, and allowing their shirt, the only indicator of official ranking they have, to become damaged shows carelessness. And third, a successful CHERUB protects themself with everything they have to give. A ripped shirt with unblemished skin underneath shows impressive instincts and hard work in the gym. Those who scored lower on this unofficial test found themselves with a few more punishment laps on the athletics track by Mac's window.

There was of course a fourth reason to this test. The simple fact was that red shirts were only worn by students yet to complete basic training, usually performed between ages 11 and 12. Therefore, everyone under age 11 was wearing a red shirt, and all of these at some point ripped their t-shirt. So those who never had a shirt of theirs turn up in laundry ripped to shreds,`were clearly special. This very small number consisted entirely of three groups of people.

There were those too careful to rip their shirt. These students usually matured into be top-notch field agents, skilled in reconnaissance, where every detail missed may cost lives.

There were those too sneaky to be caught, using tactics that varied from stealing the thread from under lock and key, to even swapping t-shirts with a fellow student when that student wasn't in. They usually ended up doing the more dangerous missions, from integrating themselves into motorcycle gangs, to stealing drugs from a crime lord who happened to be in the next room, they were the best of the best.

Then there was the third group. A group Harry, as he watched his shirt repair itself in front of his eyes, became a member of. Those with magic.

**So, we've got Luna coming soon and Tonks already there. Tonks's parents are still alive, but her entrance into CHERUB will be dealt with another time. You may get an idea if I say that in this fic, Ted Tonks is pureblood, making Andromeda a member of the Black family, and possibly a death eater too (Haven't decided yet). Meantime, I would really appreciate it if you guys told me what you thought of this fic. It is my first attempt, and, after some of what I've read in the past year, not necessarily the worst out there.**


End file.
